


Reindeer Games

by nerdgirlwalking



Series: Holi-daze [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Shoot Holiday, also it was supposed to be a drabble, oops all around, oops this was for tumblr but I dont have a tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdgirlwalking/pseuds/nerdgirlwalking
Summary: Scenes from the Holidays with Root and Shaw.





	1. Dasher

**Author's Note:**

> Holiday...Celebrate...  
> So I am basically incapable of writing just a drabble. Just can’t do it. I get a tiny idea and then ten rabid plot bunnies devour it and have dozens of bouncy little word babies. And this metaphor is far more appropriate for Easter than this particular holiday season.  
> Anyway, I was asked by a twitter friend to contribute a drabble for a Shoot Holiday thing over on tumblr, but seeing as I don’t have a tumblr (yes, I know I’m weird, I know) I’m posting this drabble collection, that isn’t drabbly in the least (yes, apparently I am bad at directions and requests), here.

 

 

“Move!” Sameen Shaw shouted as she pushed her way through a crowd of eager bargain shoppers. Her number was about twenty yards ahead of her and was gaining distance fast.

“Martin Alscott is gaining speed,” The Machine noted through her earpiece. “He has increased the distance between you by six meters.”

“I’ve noticed,” Shaw grumbled. Who knew the nebbish little embezzler was an avid runner? Well, the micro-chipped pain in her ass probably did, but hadn’t felt the need to share that tiny detail. Though his unexpected exercise routine wasn’t the only reason for Martin’s so far successful flight from Shaw’s custody. “Street’s a little crowded.” Black Friday shoppers were out in force this year apparently.

“Crowd density should diminish once you run three more blocks.”

“Great.”

Fortunately for Shaw, Martin, in addition to being a crap criminal, held no sense of style what so ever. The lime green, puffy coat he wore shone like a homing beacon as he bobbed and weaved across the sidewalk ahead. Shaw was pretty sure that thing was visible from space. Martin was nearing the end of the block, just two more storefronts to go. If Shaw was lucky, the traffic light would hold him up on the cross street.

Although…

“Any chance you can give him a red light?”

“Already done.”

Shaw smirked and picked up her pace. The hoard was starting to thin out. This jackass was as good as caught.

Her victory was short lived. Just as Martin ran past the last shop, two men holding what looked like an artificial Christmas tree on steroids between them charged out of the door. “Move,” Shaw shouted as she kept running towards them. The men turned their heads to gape at her. “Move!” At her shout, one bobbled the lower half of the tree in his hands, which caused the man holding the top half to stumble forward, in turn causing the stump to hit the first man in the stomach. That guy stopped walking and bent half over the stupid tree to catch his breath. Their bumbling served only to block even more of the sidewalk.

“Every moron in New York is out in force today,” Shaw huffed. Without breaking her stride, she hit the ground and rolled under the festive fools’ tree. She tried not to think about what horrors she was most likely rolling in.

Oh well. She was wearing Root’s jacket anyway.

“Holy shit,” one of the idiots muttered as she popped back up and continued running after her target.

Unfortunately, having to avoid becoming part of the decorations had slowed Shaw significantly enough that Martin had already managed to cross the street up ahead. She growled under her breath as she pushed herself harder to close the ever-growing distance. Stupid number. Stupid shoppers. Stupid fake plastic trees.

“He’s getting away.”

Shaw reached the end of the block and briefly looked both ways before charging into the crosswalk, despite the flashing no walking sign. She dared someone to hit her. “No, no he is not.”

“The sixty meters between you would suggest differently.”

“Just make sure you don’t lose him.”

“I’ve,” The Machine managed to stretch the word into several syllables, “always had him.”

“You get more like Root every day. It’s not cute.”

“She thinks it’s adorable.”

Like that meant anything good. “She also thinks waterboarding is adorable,” Shaw scoffed as she sidestepped a woman walking three pomeranians.

“That is…concerning.”

“And now you sound like Finch.”

“He did raise me so to speak.”

Again Shaw didn’t think that was a point in The Machine’s favor. “It’s a wonder you’ve never gone full on murder-bot.”

“What was that?”

Shaw opted to change the subject, “Where’s the number now?” She felt like she should have caught up to him by now. No way that little twerp had that much stamina.

“He stopped.”

“You couldn’t have told me that sooner?”

“You seemed busy.”

She tightened her jaw. How pissed would Root be if she were to dump a Slurpee on a hard drive or two? Purely accidentally of course.

“Where is he?” Shaw ground out through clenched teeth.

“Fifty meters.”

“Yeah, okay.” Shaw ran just a little bit harder. There was barely a crowd anymore but she didn’t want to push her luck. Martin had stopped for a reason, and she intended to make him pay for it.

“Forty-three meters.”

“Are you seriously going to keep doing this?”

“Recalculating...”

“Oh for the love of,” Shaw growled. “Just tell me if he starts moving again.”

She ran for a blissful few moments of silence, well as silent as a New York sidewalk in the middle of the afternoon could be, when The Machine got chatty once again, “Turn left!”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

Shaw followed instructions, immediately veering left into a small alleyway. It was just barely wide enough to let a car through. She didn’t immediately see Martin though. “Where is he?”

“The alley opens into a private parking area on the other end. The buildings have passcode protected locks. No other way out.”

The moron trapped himself. Perfect. “See, I told you I’d catch him.”

“You haven’t yet.”

“Details.”

“Who is becoming more like Root exactly?”

“I will take a hammer to your servers.”

“Rude.”

“A big one.” Shaw skid to a stop at the opposite end of the alley as she noticed Martin and his puffy green monstrosity of a coat lying still on the wet pavement a few feet away. “What the…”

“Poor boy tripped and smacked his head on that Audi’s bumper.”

Shaw looked skyward as she let out a breath. “Root.” She heard the telltale clack of heels on pavement. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure your number didn’t get away.”

Shaw lowered her gaze to glare at her companion. “I had that.”

“Oh I know, Sweetie,” Root smirked.

“I did.”

“Sure.”

“You’re not cute.”

“Are you going to take a hammer to my servers if I argue that point?”

Shaw shook her head as she turned and began to walk away.

“Wait, where are you going? Don’t be so grumpy Sameen. It’s Christmas!”

She kept on walking. “Not for another month it isn’t.”

“Details!”

“See,” The Machine hummed in Shaw’s earpiece. “I told you Root was rubbing off on you.”

“That’s not all I’m…”

“I hate you both.”


	2. Dancer

 

Shaw was spending a rare afternoon on the couch watching football. Bear was curled up in his second favorite doggie bed gnawing on a brand new bone they had picked up on their run that morning. She sighed as she took a sip of her lukewarm beer. There were plenty of cold bottles in the fridge, but that would require getting up. The thought of moving even the few feet between her couch and the kitchen was utterly unappealing, she was just that comfortable.

"Nothing like peace and quiet, hey Handsome?"

Bear yipped in answer.

"Exactly," she smirked and took another sip. Then scowled. Okay, next punt she'd force herself to get up.

Shaw didn’t look away from the TV when she heard the front door open. “Sam are you in here?” She rolled her eyes. The Machine knew when she got up to go to the bathroom, of course she would have told Root if she was anywhere but exactly where she was.

Root’s footsteps echoed as she walked towards the living room. “Will you talk to me if I tell you I brought tacos?”

Shaw still didn’t look away from the game but she held up her right hand. “Depends on how many you brought.”

“I think I’ve got more than enough to satisfy your every craving.”

“Tacos first, sex after the game.”

“This is all disgustingly cliché,” Root drawled as she placed a delightfully heavy bang into Shaw’s hand. “I thought I had avoided all this once I opted against entertaining men as a possibility in my romantic life.”

“Guess you lucked out,” Shaw muttered as she dug through the bag. Oh Root sprang for guac too! Meanwhile, Bear stood up from his bed and stretched, bumping against her feet.

“That’s certainly true,” Root chuckled as she moved around the sofa. “Hello, Bear,” she laughed as he greeted her with slobbery kisses. “At least someone around here knows the importance of a proper welcome home.”

“Probably because you smell like tacos.”

“Or because he loves me and missed me while I was away.”

“You were gone for three days, hardly a…” Shaw trailed off as she got her first good look at Root. “Why are you dressed like that?” That was an ensemble which included feathers, a sparkly leotard, and an honest to god tutu. If this was some kind of kinky role play, Shaw felt like Root should have worked her up to the toe shoes.

Shit, what was that safe word again?

“The Mouse King was going to assassinate the conductor.”

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ask a stupid question,” she muttered under her breath. “Let me rephrase, are you high right now?”

“Sweetie,” Root rolled her eyes, “My emergency out of town number; he was in a traveling production of _The Nutcracker_.” She flopped down on the other end of the sofa as Bear resumed his former place in his doggie bed at her feet.

Oh. “You could have said that to begin with.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to dignify that with a verbal response.

“Turns out I’ve still got some moves,” Root did a little shimmy. Shaw was pretty sure that wasn’t even remotely related to ballet. Or dance in general. More like a spasm. "Truly, I was meant for the stage." 

“I can’t believe you went to pick up tacos dressed like that.”

“You know,” Root licked her lips. “The last time I was dressed like this I got a proposal.”

Shaw stood up. “What did you do with that tank of laughing gas?”

Root frowned at the abrupt change in topic, “Pardon?”

“If you’re expecting a proposal now; you’re going to need to be high.”

 


	3. Prancer

 

Frank Lupa adjusted the sleeve of his coat as he waited for the elevator. Snow was threatening. He could smell it in the air as it floated into the lobby through the shabby doors of the aging office building. His gator shoes tapped against the cracked tile. The elevator was taking too long. He was about to tell his lieutenant, Joe Rollo, that they should take the stairs when the elevator doors lurched open.

He spared a glance towards the elevator’s other occupant as he stepped inside. The brunette’s head was down. A pair of comically oversized headphones rested over her ears. Bubble gum pink metallic. He could hear the faintest bass beat floating from them. The dark head bobbed in time with it. From what he could see of her profile, she was a looker.

Joe shuffled on to the elevator and stood beside him. They shared a look. Frank snapped the fingers of his left hand. The woman didn’t even twitch. Dumb broad didn’t even notice the lift had stopped.

He smiled as the doors slid closed. Nothing to worry about there. The woman was clearly oblivious to her surroundings. He turned to his associate. “I don’t want to be here all day. If he’s not ready…”

“Mikey says the shipments on time,” Joe cut him off. “He’ll be ready for us.”

“He better be,” he grumbled. “I want this done before the holidays.”

“Mikey’s never let us down.”

“First time for everything.”

“It’ll be there.” Joe rolled his shoulders. He glanced back at the girl standing behind them and then turned to smirk at him, “You seen Mikey’s new assistant?”

“What happened to Cheryl?” The grandmotherly woman had been Mikey’s guard dog for as long as he could remember. Rumor was her father was a hired gun for one of the families way back in the day. He could believe it. Cheryl had a stare that could peel paint right off the wall. Had to have learned that trick somewhere.

“Tripped over a dog, German Shepard I think. Cheryl said the crazy broad that owned it, had the damn thing wearing an elf costume. Can you believe that shit? Broke her hip or something,” he shrugged. “Best thing that’s happened to Mikey in years.”

“Oh yeah?” Didn’t sound like it. Replacing Cheryl would be a pain in the ass.

“Yeah, this new girl he’s got.” He whistled. “Bellissima.”

Frank snorted, “I’ve seen your wife, Joey. Forgive me if I question your taste.”

Joe took the barb in stride, “Ah but there are wives and then there are the girls you’d never dream of taking home to mama.” He smirked, “This new girl is every mama’s worst nightmare.”

“Really that good?”

“Wears these tiny little skirts. Got this walk…more like a strut, like a model or some shit. I’m telling you man, if I were Mikey I’d never get anything done around her.”

“She’s that hot I can think of one thing that’d get done.”

The elevator stopped. When the doors opened there was no one waiting. “Probably gave up, this stupid thing is so slow.” Mikey was too damn cheap to move to a building put up this century.

The brunette looked up with a scowl. The sound of the doors clanging open must have seeped through the wall of noise blaring from the headphones. He smiled at her, “Afternoon!” The scowl deepened. She pointedly reached for the volume control on the headphones and turned them up. Talk about a resting bitch face, he thought.

Still he’d hit it.

He’d have to keep an eye out for her. He did a lot of business with Mikey. Even money, if she worked here, they’d cross paths again. He’d wear her down eventually. Frank was charming like that.

The doors closed with a slight clang and the elevator lurched upward once again. “You wanna grab a bite after?”

“Sal’s?”

“We’re in the neighborhood.”

“I swear to god sometimes I think you only push me to deal with Mikey so you can get your pizza fix.”

“What? It’s two blocks away and you know it’s the best slice in the city.”

Frank shrugged. Sal did make a damn fine pie. “You’re buying.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They felt the elevator slow once again. “Freaking finally,” Joe sighed. Frank couldn’t help but agree. There was a clank and then the doors rumbled open. “Should we invite Mikey out for din-errr…” The last word trailed off as Joe’s jaw fell open.

The elevator opened directly into a small lobby. As Mikey owned the entire floor, he had knocked down several walls and shifted the hallway to create a welcome room/waiting area. Frank knew the setup well, having been a frequent visitor.

The sight that greeted them was far from typical however.

Papers were strewn everywhere. The desk where Cheryl usually sat was toppled over on its side, her computer monitor sending up the occasional spark from its cracked facade. And in the middle of it all, a petite brunette was in the process of pistol whipping Mikey stupid.

Frank’s hand hovered over the butt of the gun strapped to his hip. He held his other hand out in a placating manner as he stepped out of the elevator. Joe echoed his movements. “Listen Sweetheart, whatever Mikey did, we can fix it.”

The brunette looked up at him and blew a strand of unruly hair out of her eyes. Frank idly noted that she was gorgeous. Must be the new assistant. Seemed this one had a hot temper to go along with the looks.

“That’s what I’m doing actually,” she drawled. She kept one hand wrapped around Mikey’s violet necktie, while she raised the gun in the other so it was now pointing at them.

“Listen honey…”

Before Frank could pull for his own gun something slammed into his knee and he fell to the floor. The pain was blinding. The ringing in his ears clued him in a moment later. He’d been shot. There was another bang and a thump and then Joe landed beside him, clutching his right leg. He’d managed to pull his gun, but it fell out of his grip and skidded across the floor once he hit the linoleum. 

“Oh she hates being called honey,” A voice teased. The girl from the elevator was suddenly standing over him. The headphones were around her neck now and a still smoking 9mm was clutched in her hand. “Personally, I think it fits.” She pointed the gun at Frank’s face as she leaned down and took his gun from its holster. She tucked it into the back of her pants as she stood up again. “She’s just the sweetest thing,” She continued as if she hadn’t just shot and disarmed two men.

“Root,” the other woman interrupted. “Seriously?”

“Well,” the woman from the elevator, Root, smirked, “You are.” 

“Anyway,” the other woman practically groaned, “Mikey here’s files have already been forwarded to the FBI. The broken hand and the concussion should give him the message about putting his hand where it doesn’t belong…”

“He did what? Where?”

“Root, not the most important thing right now.”

“You’re always the most important to me.”

Frank blinked. Were these psychos for real? How hard did he hit his head when he fell?

“Tell that to you other girlfriend.”

“I think she knows,” Root smiled.

“Whatever.” She shook her head, “How about you zip tie those two so we can get out of here?”

“No need, they can only limp so far in the five minutes it’s going to take for the police to get here. She’s already routed a couple black and whites in this direction.”

“Guess we’re done here then.” She let go of Mikey’s shirt and he fell to the floor. He was out cold.

“You want to go grab a pizza? I’ve recently heard of a good place around here.”

“You’re buying.”

“Of course, Sweetie.” The brunette practically pranced past the two fallen mobsters. “We should probably take the stairs.”


	4. Vixen

 

“I’m having makeup counter flashbacks.”

“Have I mentioned how delectable your ass looks in that dress?”

“Six.” Shaw considered things for a moment and then amended, “No seven, times.” She’d had to slap Root’s wandering hands away more than once since they arrived. She did not have time to get busted for public indecency tonight.

“Well it does,” Root smiled.

“I know I’m hot,” She grumbled. “Doesn’t change the fact that this entire place reminds me of the job from hell.”

“I have no idea why,” Root drawled as she took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. “This isn’t a department store.”

“It’s filled with the same kind of entitled, stuck up assholes though.” They were currently lurking behind a life sized ice sculpture of Santa. Their number, Bunny Peterson, always went big for her annual holiday gala.

Bunny, yes that was her given name, devoted a substantial amount of money to a bevy of worthy causes. Born money, she had never needed to worry about what anything cost a day in her life. And yet here she was dumping a boatload on catering and an open bar so other rich jackoffs would open their wallets for charity. Tonight was only one of several similar events she hosted on her estate throughout the year. Each one benefited a local nonprofit. Tonight’s party and silent auction (oh yeah Bunny had donated several items to that too) would help fund a local youth home and a tri-county toy drive. Bunny seemed to put the do in do-gooder. Some might even say it was a wonder anyone would want to kill the woman.

Shaw mainly wondered who the hell named their kid Bunny.

They didn’t know much about who wanted Bunny boiled. All they’d been able to figure out so far was that someone in her inner circle had been contracting out for a hitman. The electronic trail had been rather elegantly masked, according to Root. Probably didn’t help matters that The Machine had been scheduled to run several maintenance operations this week and thus wasn’t operating at her normal level of efficiency.

Still Shaw wasn’t afraid to go a little old school. Grind it out with a little foot work. Granted, she would have preferred that footwork not to happen in stilettos. That was another thing that reminded her of the bad old days hawking blush and bodyspray.

“She looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

“What?” Shaw shook her head.

“The number,” Root nodded to something across the dancefloor. Bunny was grinding on the starting center for the Knicks. It was sort of impressive given her advanced age.

“That can never be unseen.” Shaw swiped the champagne flute from Root’s hand and downed its contents. “Maybe we should let this one go. Keeping that from ever happening again would be a favor to humanity.”

“Sadly, we don’t work that way.”

“We should look into making an exception in this case.”

Root smiled indulgently at her. “I’ll find someone for you to beat up later.”

“Are you sure that can’t be Bunny?”

“I’m absolutely certain she’s the victim in this case.”

“Why is becoming less of a mystery by the minute.” Shaw shoved the now empty glass into a large potted fern. “At least there’s alcohol.”

“Come on, Sweetie.” Root took her by the arm. “Let’s go rustle you up another drink.”

Shaw could definitely go for a little something to wash away the image of Bunny climbing that dude like a tree from her mind, but her sense of duty kicked in. “You remember we’re not actually here to party, right?”

“Are you trying to say you can’t hold your liquor, Sam?”

“Ah there’s only one lightweight between us and it aint me.”

Root laughed. To any passerby she probably looked the picture of a perfect holiday reveler. “Another glass won’t impair you, not with the way they’re watering everything down.”

“When you put it that way…”

“I’m absolutely correct.” Root wrinkled her nose, “One would think you’d be used to that by now, Sweetie.”

Shaw rolled her eyes, “Try not to trip over your ego on the way to the bar.”

“How could I possibly fall when you’re here to catch me?”

“Don’t be gross.”

After putting in their order, they settled down at one end of the bar. Root, feeling especially charitable, took up the position with the best vantage point of the dance floor. Shaw merely sipped at her drink once it arrived, as her eyes traced the room for any threats. They made small talk as they tried to blend in. About half an hour later, Root stood up from her seat. “Be right back, Sweetie.”

Shaw slid her hand down her side towards the ceramic knife she had strapped against her thigh. The only place she could keep a gun in this stupid dress was between her tits. And she wasn’t digging around in there unless things were mission critical. “Is it the number? A threat?”

“Nothing so exciting,” Root laughed. She nodded towards the buffet, “Looks like they restocked those shrimp puffs you like. Why don’t you go make up a fifth plate? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“You do know no one says jiffy anymore, right?”

“I do,” Root shrugged as she walked away.

Shaw rolled her eyes. How she ended up running around with such a nerd was beyond her. Her gaze strayed to the buffet. Still she may as well have a snack while Root was off trying to be mysterious.

A bit of the mystery was cleared up a half hour later when Shaw trailed their number to the restrooms. The doors to the balcony a few feet away were open. Bunny had sprung for several freestanding outdoor heaters in case any of the guests wished to enjoy the night air without freezing their considerable assets off. Only one couple was currently taking advantage of the space however.

Root and some crewcut in an off the rack tuxedo.

Now some in Shaw’s shoes might take offense to their partner wandering off to spend time with a random guy in a secluded, moonlit setting. After all, the pair looked awfully cozy. The way his arm curled around her side. The way her fingers trailed along his lapel. Shaw however, knew when Root was working an angle.

It was in the way Root tipped her head back way too far and laughed. The move shoved her cleavage directly into the guy’s line of sight. He was taking full advantage of it too. When she looked up again he was still staring down the front of her dress. Root had tazed people for less. But she only reached out and adjusted his tie. She was laying it on thick for this moron for some reason.

Shaw moved so that she could see both the entrance to the restroom and the balcony door. She’d be able to hear if Bunny got herself into trouble. Not that she thought assassins were lurking in the stalls or anything. But she had two targets to track now. She trusted Root, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t be nearby just in case the James Bond wannabe got too handsy.

Ten minutes later, Bunny was speaking with the pair on the balcony. Shaw watched as Root leaned in to whisper something to GI Brosef, and then smiled at Bunny. She pointed at the woman’s half empty glass. Suggesting a refill maybe? Whatever it was, Bunny was nodding at Root with a wide smile. Soon she was walking Shaw’s way.

“You gonna tell me what that was about?” She asked when Root was beside her.

“I pocketed Gerald’s car keys.” Root held them aloft for emphasis. “Vintage Aston Martin. Wanna get out of here?”

“What about our number?”

“Bunny’s husband was arrested three hours ago. Nasty business. But Bunny is sleeping with a tremendous divorce lawyer.” Root scrunched her nose, “It’s sort of the reason why Thad wanted to hire a hitman. She’ll be fine though. I doubt any judge would grant that guy spousal support under the circumstances.”

“The number is over?” Shaw scowled, “Why the hell are we still here?”

“They had an open bar. Besides, when else am I going to see your ass in a dress like that?”

Shaw snatched the keys from her hand and stomped away.

Root tilted her head slightly to better enjoy the view. “Worth it!”


	5. Comet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas if you're celebrating today!

 

“Lovely night.”

“It would be if we weren’t out here freezing our asses off.”

Root reached over and gave Shaw’s a hearty grope. “Can’t have that.”

“Would you knock it off?”

“Not much else to do at the moment. We’re stuck waiting for Wilkerson to move.” Their number was holed up in his family’s vacation cabin. Root and Shaw were currently watching the building from the top of a small rise overlooking the property. The surrounding area was rather underdeveloped, not another house for miles. Which in theory was great for tracking their man’s movements, but in practice it also meant they would be prematurely discovered if they got too close. They’d had to trek in on foot to ensure the noise of a vehicle wouldn’t give them away.

Root licked her lips, “And besides when has that ever stopped us?”

“I’m not risking frostbite just because you’re bored.” They were laying on a tarp between snow drifts for god’s sake.

“Not even a little over the clothes action?” Shaw scoffed at that. “Fine,” Root sighed. “But once this job’s done…”

“I’m getting a sandwich.”

“Excellent idea,” Root leaned in close. She brushed cold lips across her cheek before catching her earlobe between her teeth. She soothed the quick bite with another brush of her lips before adding, “You’ll need your strength for what I have in mind.”

“Two sandwiches,” Shaw allowed. She felt Root smile against her skin before the other woman rolled away. “Can you convince Siri to phone in an order for delivery?”

“You know she hates when you call her that.”

“And I hate when she calls and gives us boring ass numbers, so all things considered I think we’re even.”

“We’ve had worse.”

“I’m going to remind you, that you said that when you’ve got frostbite tomorrow.”

“As long as you promise to rub everything better.”

“That’s not how… you know what? Never mind.” Shaw dug the binoculars she had brought along out of her gear bag and started another visual inspection of the cabin’s exterior just to have something to do. “I don’t see why we can’t just go down there and drag the asshole out by his feet.”

“We still don’t know who he’s working with.”

“Give me five minutes and a shovel.”

“Don’t talk like that if we’re not going to fool around. You know what threats of violence do to me, Sameen.”

“Freak.”

“Flatterer.”

They were quiet for a bit after that. The silence was a comfortable one. Shaw never would have believed it a few years ago, but sometimes Root knew when to let a moment breathe. The world was still around them. She wouldn’t say it out loud but Root was right, it was a nice night. Despite the cold and the snow, the sky was clear. This far from civilization, the dark sky was full of stars. Like something out of a picture.

Root sighed beside her. It wasn’t her bored sigh, or her exasperated sigh. She shouldn’t be tired either seeing as they hadn’t really done anything requiring much energy so far. Which meant she was probably thinking something sappy. As such, Shaw chose to ignore it.

Suddenly, Root pointed towards the horizon, “A shooting star!”

“Did it land on our idiot number?” Because that was the only reason why Shaw could fathom she should care.

“Go on make a wish.”

“I’m not twelve,” Shaw grumbled as she adjusted the focus on her binoculars. She felt a poke in her side. “Apparently, you are though.”

“There’s got to be something you want.”

She thought about it for a moment. “Nah.”

“New gun? Another dinosaur femur for Bear? Steak of the month club membership? Nipple clamps?”

Shaw snorted. “Don’t tell me you broke another set trying to modify them.”

“After one or two uses the pressure begins to vary. Consistency is king, Sameen.” So that was a yes. Damnit those were their last ones. “Shoddy craftsmanship if you ask me.”

“No one did.”

“But we were talking about wishes,” Root rambled on. “Specifically, yours.”

“If,” Shaw rolled on to her side so that she could look Root in the eye. “If, I was the sort of person to believe in wishes, I wouldn’t waste one on crap you can have The Machine order for us in bulk.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Root’s face did that weird thing where Shaw couldn’t tell if she was going to sneeze or cry, “There’s really nothing you’d wish for?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“What part of nope was unclear?”

“Everybody wants something.”

“Maybe there was something before. But when I think about my life now, nothing stands out. I’ve got everything I need; have for a while,” she shrugged.

“Sameen…” Yeah, that was a crying face. “I think I’ve everything I need too.”

“Except nipple clamps apparently.”

Root shoved her head into the snow.


	6. Cupid

 

“Did you put Anglr back on my phone?”

“Most people start a conversation with hello, Lionel.”

“Oh excuse me the breach in etiquette there Princess Margaret,” He barked. “Did you or the freakshow you’re doing on the regular mess with my phone?”

“Classy.” She shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“Shaw.”

She chewed and swallowed. “I haven’t touched your stupid phone.” She speared a sausage with her fork, for a moment picturing a certain shabby detective’s hand under its tines instead. “We haven’t been in the same room in weeks, when the hell would I have had the time, genius?”

“What about your favorite fruit loop?”

Her free hand hovered over the screen of the phone that was resting just to the right of her plate for a moment. But she knew if she hung up Fusco would just call right back. Better to wait him out. Or divert him to another target. “Why don’t you call and ask her?” And leave Shaw to her breakfast in peace.

“Like I have her number.”

Shaw snorted around her mouthful of eggs.

“My ears are ringing.”

“What the…”

“Root.”

“Hey, Sweetie. Lionel.”

“Nutter Butter,” Fusco grumbled. “I don’t recall dialing you up.”

“Well, no. You’d have to have my number first.” Shaw smirked at that. Of course the little brat had been listening in the entire time Fusco had been ranting. “Something told me I should pop in on this little tete-a-tete.”

“I thought party lines got left in the stone age.”

“Look at you using an apt metaphor,” Root cooed. “Save some of that wit for your date.”

“Ha! So you are the one that put that stupid profile up on Anglr.”

“Fraid not.”

“But you just said…”

“You’re seriously trolling the web for dates now?” That’s how guys like Fusco got murdered. Well, normal guys like Fusco, ones who didn’t almost get murdered every other day during near cyber apocalypses. With his track record, the guy really shouldn’t take any extra chances.

“I’m not doing anything, Tiny. Root messed with my phone.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You basically just admitted it.”

“I don’t know how you have such a high closure rate on your cases with deductive skills like that,” Root teased. “Oh wait, you have us.”

“You ain’t cute. I don’t know anyone else who could remotely put this stupid app on my pho…oh my god tell me it didn’t!”

“She just wants you to be happy, Lionel.”

“Well you can tell Optimus Prime that I’m happy finding my own dates.”

“Ben and Jerry,” Shaw drawled.

“Sweetie, that’s hurtful.”

“Yeah.”

“Besides Lionel is more of a Mister Softee man. He ate an alarming number of Cherry Dips last summer.”

“How? Why?” he sputtered.

Root continued on as if he’d not said a word, “I’m more of a double rainbow sprinkle gal myself. When I choose to indulge of course. Which I must say, is far less often than you, Lionel. I suppose I’m more concerned for my girlish figure.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth, “Such a shame, but maybe that’s why you need so much help filling your social calendar.”

“You keep making this more and more creepy,” Fusco groaned.

Meanwhile all this ice cream talk was hitting Shaw in the sweet tooth. She waved the waitress back over. “Can I get a double stack, mixed berry compote on the side...”

“Get whipped cream,” Root directed.

Shaw rolled her eyes. She motioned to her phone where it sat on the table and held up a finger in a just a second motion. The waitress nodded.“Get your own pancakes,” She hissed as she scooped the phone up and turned to face the side of the booth for a modicum of privacy.

“Can the two of you do this on your own time?”

Root ignored Fusco’s complaint to address Shaw’s directive. “Or you could double your order. I’m half a block away and I’m positively famished. Those accountants were surprisingly spry for white collar criminals.”

“Fine.” Once the waitress was on her way with an order for pancakes, one double stack with a side of compote and one kid-sized with extra whipped cream, Shaw focused on the original topic of conversation. “Just so I’m clear, The Machine decided that Lionel was so hopeless…”

“Hey!”

“So totally lacking in game, that he needed a dating intervention?”

“I do just fine,” he continued to protest.

“Even if that were true,” Root interrupted, before he could work himself into a full on defense of his dating record. No one had time for that. “Everyone could use a little help now and then. Who better to lend a hand than a god?”

“And we’re back to creepy.”

“Agnes seems like a lovely gal. Try not to wear anything with mustard stains.”

“No, no way Cocoa Pu…” There was a click as the call was disconnected.

A shadow fell over Shaw’s table. “He is such a drama queen,” Root chuckled as she slid into the opposite side of the booth.

“Can’t really blame the guy though. The Machine setting people up? Like that would work,” she shook her head.

“I don’t know,” Root drawled as she snagged a stray bite of hash browns from Shaw’s plate. “She didn’t do so bad with us.”


End file.
